


Suicide Hotline

by VcyTitania



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-19 15:04:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VcyTitania/pseuds/VcyTitania
Summary: Matt has been feeling empty since Mello left him. He takes up a job at a suicide prevention center, comforting troubled individuals at unusual hours (it's not like he had much of a choice). Across Los Angeles, Mello's life has been falling apart, ridden with frequent anxiety attacks. He has contemplated suicide multiple times; with no one else to turn to, he decides to call the suicide hotline. A very unlikely turn of events brings the two to finally reunite over the phone.





	1. Incomplete

**Author's Note:**

> *please note: this fic will contain a smut chapter 
> 
> "Take you away  
> From that empty apartment  
> You stay  
> And forget where the heart is  
> Someday  
> If ever you loved me  
> You'd say  
> It's okay"-Empty Apartment by Yellowcard  
> *Tis a writing prompt

Matt has sunk into the depths of loneness-never had he felt so incomplete in the span of eighteen short years of his life. Not a day passed when he would question if making a risky trip all the way from New York to LA in an old, beat-up Mustang just to dwell on the hope that a particular blonde's still alive was worth it. Five filled ash-trays and three packs of cigarettes in, Matt starts to dwell on the thought a bit longer, like the thick curls of smoke lingering in the still air, masking his face. Matt has hacked, hijacked, broken-in and scoured the entire span of the interwebs-and only the faintest trace of info somewhere, someplace led him to LA in hopes that Mello still resides there. He had even taken up a shitty job somewhere in town, working as a telephone spokesperson at a suicide prevention center-in his defense, they were pretty desperate for more employees cause no one wants to deal with the bullshit suicidal ones spew out (in Matt's opinion). A couple of sickening, syrupy-sweet sentences spoken to the manager, and he's in-Matt had a knack for saying what others want to hear (which came from dealing with Mello, Near and the pain-in-the-ass tutors for all those years). Being the night owl he is, he took the night shift from 10pm-6am (it turned out to be a grave mistake on his part, as suicidal ones tend to contemplate taking their lives late at night). Matt flicks another cigarette butt into the overfilled ashtray, and reaches over for his DS-distancing himself once again from the real world, into the bright, pixelated fantasy world of video games, before heading off to work in a short while.

\----------

Somewhere across town in a dingy apartment, Mello lay in the corner of his run-down bathroom, curled up in a fetal position, clutching a chocolate bar to his chest, like a teddy bear. He was a heaving mess, tears stung the right side of his face which bore a large, jagged scar-fresh from the explosion which he luckily escaped. He was having one of those nights, when he believes he's being painfully torn by the seams, and falling apart. Waves of anxiety crashed down upon him, as he fights the currents of hopelessness, trying not to drown within his own demons. All the thrashing against the surface only tired him out, and he soon plunged deep into the depths of his inferiority complex. All the thoughts, like currents come rushing back in-fears he thought he had long overcome and the dread of living in Near's shadow that still looms over his head, jeering at him, to this day.  He viciously clawed at his skin, leaving bloodied trails of scratch marks along both arms, which contrasted greatly from his pale, porcelain skin. In the midst of all violent shaking and kicking, a piece of paper slipped out the soft, leather folds of Mello's jacket. Taking notice of the crumpled bit of paper, Mello gently picked it up and cradled it between his leather-clad fingers, as if it was something of significance. A phone number was messily scrawled across the delicate paper; not just any phone number, but the number specially reserved for mental breakdowns in the bathroom. By dialing the number, Mello would feel sane again, without having to take his own life-without destroying one of the most powerful, anti-Kira legacy, unintentionally brought upon him. Besides, the guy at the other end of the phone sounded like Matt, his closest childhood friend. Mello swears it could be him, but what are the chances of Matt moving to LA and working at a suicide prevention center? In a cruel, merciless world, which he left behind the people he considered to be "family", this is closest thing he had to the warmth of his dearest friend-even if it's not really him. With trembling hands, he flipped open his phone and frantically dialed the number.

\----------

"Ring, ring!" The police blue phone at Matt's desk rang, jittering against the wooden surface.

Matt was reluctant to pick it up, clearly not wanting another 30 minute (or so) long conversation. Usually, it's just Matt working such a late-night shift. Besides, occasionally Matt hears a very nostalgic voice from the other end of the line-he swore it could be Mello, but Mello doesn't seem like the 

person to show his vulnerability and seek emotional support from others besides Matt, Watari and L. Hoping for the soothing voice on the other side, Matt eventually picks up the phone.

 

"Hello, this is suicide hotline. What troubles you at this moment?" Matt spoke in the same monotone, yet caring voice he had practiced multiple times.  

 

"…I'm mentally falling apart." The Mello-ish voice uttered.

 

_"Well shit-so it's him again, looks like tonight won't be such a tiresome night after all."_ Matt thought to himself.

 

"Feel free to let it all out, we are here to listen." Matt calmly spoke into the phone.

 

After a long moment of silence, the troubled individual spoke once again, between muffled sobs (the cries sounded very…Mello-like it was actually scary). "…..I just feel that I'm not worth it-I'm useless and I'm only a replacement, completely inferior to someone who I cannot surpass no matter how hard I try. I try at my greatest ability-even sometimes past my limits to prove that I am worth something. Then, before you know it, I risked my life to make myself feel worthy. I'm starting to think if all of this was worth it, everything I went through….."

 

Matt's eyes widened upon hearing that familiar speech. _"Holy shit….is it really him?"_

He recalls Mello uttering something along the lines of that way back in Wammy's House, when he had broken down in front of Watari and L. It has to be Mello. Matt can tell his inferiority complex from a mile away.

 

After pausing for a while in a state of shock, Matt finally spoke. "….Are you Mello? This is Matt."


	2. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "All we do is drive  
> All we do is think about the feelings that we hide  
> All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign  
> Sick and full of pride  
> All we do is drive"-Drive by Halsey  
> *My music taste is pretty whack :/

Mello's eyes widened in utter shock, he was sure his heart has stopped beating.

 _"Matt, no-IT CAN'T BE. Matt wouldn't get a job at a suicide hotline, but then again, Matt seems like a comforting enough person to keep the job…"_ Mello pondered.

"….Matt, is this really you? Why the fuck are you working at a suicide prevention center?" He finally managed to utter.

"Damn right it's me, I've been working here cause my phishing scams aren't doing so well so why not do something legal for a living for once? But why the hell are you calling a suicide hotline? I mean, it's not something you'd do, Mello…" Matt responded.

Mello heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that it was indeed, Matt.

"Well shit, it's really you. Y'know, I really missed having someone to bitch about my problems to. Trustworthy people are really hard to find these days, but I've finally found your ass, Matt." Mello smirked for the first time in quite a while.

"Hey, let's meet up somewhere-maybe by freeway 710 we can drive around and talk about the good ol' days like in some cheap, cliché drama. You live in East LA, right?"

"Yeah, near freeway 710 and freeway 5. You've done a half-assed decent job searching for me, for a Wammy's kid."

Matt chuckled at the other end of the line-it was so refreshing to hear his laugh again, like a figment of his childhood has been brought back again. 

"I have tried to find you, but you've hidden yourself well enough for a Wammy's kid. Anyways, meet me by E Olympic Blvd and S Ford Blvd, so we can continue driving onto freeway 710 at midnight just for that neon city light aesthetic y'know. I'll pick you up in my car. I'm calling quits on this job tomorrow, and hope for the best that my phishing schemes work again. Anyways, my time's almost up…"

"Alright then, bye Matt." Mello hung up, feeling a little saddened-Matt's so close, yet so far.

Then again, Mello knew for sure, that he will be meeting Matt once again-the intersection was just a 15-minute walk away from his apartment building. Tomorrow's meeting will determine the fate of their entire relationship, Mello lies awake on his worn mattress, listening to the hectic city sounds with that thought. 

\---------

By 11:50pm, Matt was already cruising down freeway 5 in his cherry-red mustang. Completely lost among the neon city lights, he turns on the radio, playing soothing synthwave music to really set the mood. Matt rolled down the dark, tinted window, lights up a cigarette and lets his face be concealed by thick, heavy smoke once again. Pushing down the gas pedal, his car accelerated well above the speed limit, letting the building lights become more of a blur around him. Matt completely loosens up, taking in the LA night life atmosphere and viewing the melancholic scenery through his orange tinted goggles. Fuelled by newly-found adrenaline, nicotine and the will to see Mello once again, Matt feels invincible-switching lanes and weaving through light traffic like he owns the night. He speeds through the freeway 710 underpass, switches three lanes at once and gets off at Telegraph rd. Navigating through a web of lit-up streets, Matt quickly found himself driving along E Olympic Blvd. He always had a strong sense of direction, mainly because of his photographic memory. Matt slows down drastically as he nears the intersection by S Ford Blvd. He lurks around E Olympic Blvd, until he spots a small to medium build figure standing under a street lamp, dressed head-to-toe in black, with long, blonde hair flowing just by his shoulders. There's no doubt-he's got to be Mello. Stopping at the side of the road beside Mello, Matt steps out of his car; his heavy combat boots clicking against the pavement below. He approaches the blonde, and Mello slowly turns around, scanning Matt with the same, piercing blue eyes Matt still recognized after 5 long years. Other than that, the change in Mello's appearance stung Matt like an open-handed slap to his face. He's no longer clad in soft, black fabric, but pure leather instead. Soft, crow-like feathers in the hood of his leather jacket stuck out like the tendrils of a sea anemone, but that's the only thing "soft" about his new appearance. Mello's iron crucifix around his neck gleamed under the street lamp, and his hair appeared more wild and unkempt than angelic. But the most dramatic change was a jagged scar that cut across the right side of his face-which is a sharp contrast to his once-flawless, porcelain skin. It's mind-blowing to see how much one can change in a span of just a few years. Pushing those thoughts aside, with a cigarette still in his mouth, Matt steps closer towards Mello.

"Hey Mel'." He managed to utter.

Mello's expression changed into a thin smirk.

"You really haven't changed at all. Still the same redhead pushover-I knew you snuck cigarettes into the orphanage."

Mello plucked the cigarette from between Matt's lips, and took a long drag out of the cancer stick. Flicking the butt of the cigarette to the sidewalk, Mello painfully wheezed and coughed out faint clouds of smoke.

"Y'know, I never understood why you enjoy smoking these. I mean I enjoy a occasional puff here and there, but I just smoke for the cover, like when smoke hides your face and shit."

Matt heaved a sigh, Mello has asked the same question for the 100th time already. "It's the fuckin nicotine, it clears my mind and shit. It's just like you with your chocolate-only, cigarettes makes you die faster, which is what I want at this point."

Mello let out a light chuckle. "Well, if it puts an end to our misery much faster, then sign me the fuck up."

Matt's lips turned upwards into a half-smile. "Well, one of these days, we should form a suicide pact together or somethin'. It's a very dramatic and gets the point of wanting to die across."

"No shit Sherlock, you seem to have a lot of fucking ideas on killing ourselves for a telephone spokesperson at a suicide prevention center." Mello retorted.

At this point, both Mello and Matt erupted into a fit of light chuckles.

 _"hmm, is this what recovering a long-lost friendship feels like?"_ Matt thought to himself.

"Anyways, I have my car parked right here-why don't you hop onto my pimped-out ride and I can drive you down freeway 5 and 10 to downtown LA, where I live." Matt grinned.

"Oh damn Matt, calling your secondhand Mustang a 'pimped-out ride', is this how you pick up LA girls?" Mello sneered.

"Ex-fucking-cuse me Mello, but it still looks pretty badass. Anyways, do you wanna hop in or not?'

"Alright, Matty." Mello mockingly petted Matt's head with his leather-clad hand.

Matt opened the door and let Mello take the passenger seat (and they say chivalry is dead).  Matt took the driver's seat and started up his engine. Soon enough, he was driving through the lonely streets of  LA, before reaching freeway 5.

\--------

Mello was taking in every precious moment spent with Matt-that's for sure. He enjoyed watching the bright, neon lights flash, with both arms wrapped around Matt's striped shirt (not minding the scent of cigarettes at all), while Matt drives at an utterly insane speed. The comfort, the thrill, the feeling of being completely alive once again-Mello enjoyed it all.  Soon sick of all the synthwave Matt was playing, Mello reached for the radio and tuned into some punk rock/metal channel.

"Hmm, 'Fear of the Dark' by Iron Maiden, that's more like it." Mello smirked.

"Christ Mello, I was playing quality music-Miami Nights 1984 is like the God of all synthwave."

"More like fucking boring 'I wanna fall asleep' while thinking of driving music." Mello retorted.

"Alright, whatever you say, princess." Said Matt, his words heavily laced with mockery.

"Damn right. You should feel lucky that I decided to be your bitch."

"I do." Matt smiled the same, warm smile Mello knew from way back in Wammy's House-Jesus Christ, Matt's fucking perfect.

Matt lightly kissed Mello's cheek; his soft lips meeting Mello's scarred skin. For once, his scar didn't sting upon contact. Matt quickly slammed the breaks, realizing his gesture towards Mello resulted in almost hitting the only car in front of them.

"For fucks sake Matt." Mello whisper-yelled.

"Uh, whoops."

"We almost died, Matt! I have to still beat Near, I can't end my life like this!"

"I think you're over-reacting Mello, it's not 100% guaranteed that we'll die from a car crash. Anyways, I'm relieved to hear that you have a clear purpose to live."

"Of course I do."

"Anyways, I want to ask-how did you get your scar?" Matt asked.

That very sentence sent Mello's mind into a downward spiral of traumatic events he didn't want to resurface.  Mello froze, his face turned three shades paler. 


End file.
